The Space Between
by yellowNight
Summary: While House’s colleagues reflect and deal with the long months of summer, they all just want one thing... for House to wake up. [Series of POVs post “No Reason”] Chapter 3 posted!
1. Wilson muses

The Space Between

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the House characters or anything related.

**Another Disclaimer**: The title is the same as Dave Mathew's Band song (that I don't have the rights to, either). The fic has nothing to do with the song, I just liked the title.

**A/N**: Each chapter will be a character's POV. The first chapter is really just a prologue (it may seem a little confusing, but I tried my best to make sure everything is clear by the end). It takes place post "No Reason," but pre season three. Feel free to leave a review!

**Rated T**: Chapter one is more or less fluff, but chapter 2 in particular is **really not** for children (ch 2 contains sexual themes, as does ch 3)

_One: Wilson's POV_

When you're a kid, you look forward to those summer months the entire year. The first signs of warm weather are the first signs of the impending freedom from the jail that is the class room. And those days of summer that were longed for during the winter months always live up to their promise.

Somewhere along the line, though, I think it's during college, the anticipation for the lazy days of summers vanishes. The lazy days of summer are replaced by two short weeks, then internships, and before you know it, you're an adult and summer is nothing but the reason for having to apply an extra layer of deodorant in the morning.

This year is different, though. Summer made its return this year. And summer didn't return as the "lazy days," but instead as the vengeful, forgotten season. The days were filled with unnecessary hours of sunlight, and it pissed me off.

Everyday I sat and waited in that same chair, and as each day passed my hope slowly started to fade. I looked forward to the first sign of autumn leaves. I needed fall to come.

I scoffed at the irony of it all. He wanted to be put in a chemically induced coma. Well, that's impossible when the body goes into a coma on its own, isn't it?

The worst was calling Cuddy at 2:30 in the morning. I had no choice, but it was still awful. I guess that's the way this medical proxy thing goes.

When I called, I tried to stay calm but I was panicking, and Cuddy knew it.

I've been pretty calm and levelheaded throughout this whole ordeal. Nevertheless, on the inside, I am a total mess.

And to top it off, I have come to realize that somewhere along the line I became as cynical as House. I just hide it better than he did.

People often wonder why we are friends. I have actually been asked how "such a nice guy" can be friends with such a "curmudgeon." I usually just laugh and don't give a straight answer. The truth is that House says all the things I would never have the courage to say because I am a nice guy.

I've been pretending that everything is the same as it was before. I still go and eat lunch with House, although I'm the only one eating. The conversations are one sided. I know it seems pathetic, but it makes me feel better.

Cuddy has been opening up to me. I don't really know why. I guess she has no where else to turn. She's been waiting for me to go and cry on her shoulder. I have no intention of doing that, though.

I've found that Cameron, Chase, and Foreman seem the most affected. I never thought House's team would fall apart _that_ quickly.

You'd have to be an idiot not to realize how Chase and Cameron have been "dealing with their grief," as Cuddy puts it.

I can't really tell if Foreman's just ignoring it or if he's really that oblivious.

It's funny, as a child, you can never imagine saying this-but I really, really need this damned summer to be over

TBC


	2. Chase copes

The Space Between

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Hope you like this, I don't normally ship ChaseCameron but this isn't really romance...

_Two: Chase's POV_

The first time it happened, I went to her. I don't know what I was thinking going to her apartment in the first place, and I wasn't thinking at all when we had wild, manic sex.

But this time, she came to me. Her motive was obvious-she needed comfort, and there was a very select few who would understand the situation. The boss with whom she had a love/hate relationship was shot in front of her and she was traumatized. She had two choices- come to me or go to Foreman.

She chose me.

The night of the shooting she actually came home with me from work. Neither of us wanted to be alone, and we opted for my apartment instead of a bar. She slept beside me in my bed, but nothing more happened.

The next night, she showed up at my place around one in the morning. Though I tried to convince her otherwise, I had already been sleeping for hours. While I found the questioning by the police exhausting, it apparently made her very anxious, and I guess it also made her amorous.

We did it on the floor, on top of the welcome mat.

It was passionate, raw, and afterward I felt so filthy I took a shower

Being together felt really, really good…and made me feel really, really guilty.

I couldn't help but feel like I was taking advantage of her.

We agreed that a relationship wouldn't be appropriate, given our status as coworkers and the situation with House. We also decided that there would be absolutely no more sex.

She came to my place two more times that week, the following week we did it in the janitor's closet, and I now have the spare key to her apartment.

I haven't said this many Hail Mary's in one summer since the Seminary.


	3. Cameron reasons

The Space Between

**Thanks for the reviews!**

_Three: Cameron's POV_

At first I was afraid he would want a relationship. I would never want to hurt him, but I wasn't in the right place for a relationship.

He was the one who suggested that there shouldn't be strings attached. I couldn't even communicate how great a relief that was. There was no need to tell him, though, because our relationship wasn't based on communication. It was based on one thing and one thing alone-sex.

There has never been a point in my life before now in which I have behaved like a slut. In high school and college I was a prude. Later, while my friends were embarking upon sexcapades, seriously dating, and subsequently settling down, I was a widow.

I was in my early twenties, and I was a widow.

Then I fell in love with my boss. I knew it was wrong, and I knew it was twisted, but I was giddy over him. Beyond that tough exterior, I could see the vulnerable, brilliant man.

I was foolish to think we could have any type of relationship. There is a huge age gap, his ex whom he was still in love with had returned, etc.

It just wasn't meant to be.

But I still longed for him. I wanted House with every fiber of my being. He became the sought after prize I could never have. He would always be just out of my reach.

I guess I was making up for those wasted teenage years in which I never even had a crush on a teacher.

Then there was Chase. He's a like a puppy dog.

He's the antithesis of House. He's always clean shaven, has delicate features, and he's so mellow I often wonder if he really cares about anything.

He was just there, waiting to be used, and that is exactly what I've been doing.

Using him.

I feel just awful. The guilt is overwhelming. He feels guilty, too, but I have no clue why. I'll never quite understand that "Catholic Guilt" thing.

Once House wakes up from the coma, I'll end it once and for all.

Once summer is over, I'll end it. Cut him off.

_Who am I kidding?_


End file.
